


Pepper

by searchingwardrobes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Scene, Neverland Renaissance, R.O.U.Ss, The Princess Bride References, emma gives killian first aid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:35:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/searchingwardrobes/pseuds/searchingwardrobes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma battles R.O.U.Ss alongside Hook in Neverland, and he is injured. While tending to his wound, Emma explains the story of The Princess Bride to him, and Hook asks Emma to say his real name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pepper

**Author's Note:**

> * I should be working on my novel or my multi-chapter fic, but instead I'm writing this Neverland one shot. I'm loving this Neverland renaissance that always seems to happen during every hiatus, and the muse suddenly struck, so what's a girl to do?  
> * The title comes from the song of the same name by Butthole Surfers. Never thought I would use the phrase Butthole to explain a fic, but the chorus of the song made me think of Captain Swan.  
> * The other inspiration for this fic came the other night when my husband and I were watching Princess Bride for like the 50th time. It irritates both of us how passive Buttercup is when the R.O.U.S's attack. I mean, come on woman, pick up a stick or something! So here Emma does it the kick-ass way!  
> * Hope you like it!

_I don’t mind the sun sometimes, the images it shows_

_I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes_

_Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies_

_You never know just how you look through other people’s eyes._

              Emma walked gingerly over gnarled roots, bending down to pick up pieces of wood that weren’t too wet to start a fire. She ran her arm across her forehead. _Everything_ seemed too wet in this jungle. _Like the tendrils of hair at the nape of Hook’s neck._ Emma groaned inwardly. Would she _ever_ get the details of that kiss out of her mind? Then the infernal man had to go and make that bold declaration. Well, two declarations actually. First in the echo cave and then that grand speech about winning her heart. His absolute sincerity had made her sway towards him. If Neal hadn’t interrupted them . . . She shook her head and tried to clear it. Now was not the time to dwell on Hook. Or Neal. But mainly Hook.

              Emma grabbed a piece of wood and added it to the stack in her arms. She had volunteered to go collect, not waiting around for anyone to argue. Neal had gone with Tinkerbell to gather weapons that were stockpiled in the caves. Neal said he knew Tink’s area of the jungle better than anyone, so it made the most sense for him to go. Emma had felt relieved that it would be Neal and not Hook. Her mother, of course, had completely misread the situation.

              “Are you alright, sweetie?” Mary Margaret had asked, putting a hand to her arm. “They’re just old friends, you know that, right?”

              That was when Emma had stomped off to get firewood. Her mother probably thought it confirmed her jealousy. If only she knew. Her mother was completely misreading everything. She thought Emma felt _guilty_ about kissing Hook. If only it were that simple! She didn’t feel guilty; she felt confused. And as much as she didn’t want to dwell on that amazing kiss, she kept replaying it in her mind. She had a feeling ensuring that it was just a “one time thing” was going to take every ounce of her willpower. She glanced down at the buttercup tattoo on her wrist. _As you wish._ Not that he knew what that meant, but she couldn’t help the small smile that crossed her face when he said it.

              “Swan, be very still.”

              Emma let out a small yelp at the sound of Hook’s voice behind her. She turned, planning on yelling at him for sneaking up on her like that, but he stood extremely still, looking cautiously around them. So instead of yelling, she whispered back accusingly, “Are you following me?”               “Aye,” he responded continuing to whisper. His eyes scanned the greenery around them suspiciously. “This is not a part of the jungle you should have ventured into alone, love. This is the home of the R.O.U.S’s.”

              Emma’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t be serious. Could he? “I’m sorry, did you just say R.O.U.S’s?”

              Before Hook could respond, a creature leapt from the tree over Emma’s shoulder, knocking her to the ground. Whatever it was, the animal’s stench made Emma gag. Before she could even react, Hook had kicked it off her. He lunged at it with his hook, but the creature was far more agile than the ones in the movie. Yet it _was_ a giant, filthy rat with a long, disgusting tail. Hook kicked the creature again, stabbing it in the heart with his hook. But before he had even straightened himself up, another one pounced on him from an outcropping of rocks. Emma spun around, her eyes widening in horror as she saw several more of them forming a circle around her and Hook.

              Emma grabbed one of the longer pieces of firewood she had just dropped and began beating the creature Hook was currently wrestling. She stunned it enough that he was able to slit its throat with his hook.

              “Emma, behind you!” Hook cried out.

              Emma spun around, to find another R.O.U.S charging her. She stumbled backwards, tripping over her forgotten pile of firewood and falling to the ground. The giant rat raced straight for her, nipping at her heels. She kicked it in the face, stunning it, but another one came at her from the side. Her eyes widened in surprise as Hook yanked on the creature’s tail to get it away from her. It turned on him with surprising speed, pinning him down and digging its long, sharp teeth into Hook’s shoulder. Hook screamed out in pain.

              Emma suddenly remembered the pistol still at her hip. It seemed wrong to use the weapon on Lost Boys. Demons they may be, but they were still boys. But these disgusting things . . . Emma pulled out the pistol, and with practiced calm, aimed at the R.O.U.S’s head. She pulled the trigger and the disgusting thing shuddered and died. The rest of its companions screeched at the sound of the gun going off, turned, and ran. Hook pushed the rat off him in disgust.

              “Bloody hell, Swan, are you trying to kill me!”

              Emma’s jaw dropped. “I think thank you is in order! I just saved your life!”

              “You almost blew my head off!”

              Emma rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a baby! The bullet was nowhere near you.”

              “It whizzed right past my head!”

              Emma was suddenly keenly aware of Hook’s close proximity to her. As they argued, they had slowly inched closer to one another. Like magnets being inexplicably drawn together. Emma cursed herself as she caught herself staring at his lips. She averted her gaze, and it fell on his bloodied shoulder. He had left his duster and vest back at the camp, and was just wearing his billowy, black pirate shirt. It was completely ripped at the left shoulder. The skin there was lacerated and bloody. His arm hung limply, betraying the pain he must be feeling.

              Emma shook her head. “A wound just like Westley’s too. Of course.”

              Hook’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Who’s Westley?”

              Emma shook her head. “Not important,” she grabbed him by his good arm and pulled him back towards camp. “Let’s get that shoulder tended to.”

              Emma marched Hook back to camp without another word. When they reached the clearing where they had set up camp, she immediately went to her mother’s bag for the first aid kit. She gestured for Hook to sit down on a nearby rock.

              “What in the world happened to you two?” Mary Margaret asked with concern. Was she concerned about Hook’s shoulder or about Emma being alone with him? Emma figured it was a toss-up.

              “R.O.U.S’s” Hook answered, wincing in pain.

              Mary Margaret’s eyebrows lifted clear to her hairline.

              Regina choked out a laugh, “You don’t seriously mean . . . “

              “Rodents of unusual size?” Emma snapped as she sat down and opened the kit. “Yes.”

              Mary Margaret: “Wow.”

              David: “That’s – crazy.”

Regina: “Why am I even surprised?”

              Hook looked around at everyone in confusion. “Does everyone here know something I don’t?”

              Regina smirked. “Care to explain it to him? Buttercup?”

              Emma snapped the first aid kit shut. “We need water for this.” She stood, hauling a confused Hook to his feet. No one argued with Emma, but she heard Regina’s snarky comment behind her.

“Let the record show _I_ was the first one to call him her boyfriend.”

When they got down to the water’s edge, Emma gestured for Hook to sit on a log. She sat next to him and took a deep breath before saying, “You’ll have to take off your shirt.”

Hook arched his brow and smiled flirtatiously at her, just as she had expected. “Can’t wait to get me out of my clothes, huh, Swan?”

Emma rolled her eyes. She actually felt more comfortable with him this way. Captain Innuendo she could handle. She tried not to stare as Hook peeled off his shirt, wincing again with pain. It wasn’t just the hard muscle underneath that made her keenly aware of his eyes on her. It was his brace. She wasn’t sure what she thought held his hook in place, but this complicated leather contraption that crossed his chest and shoulder blade wasn’t what she expected. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by staring. She busied herself with the little bottle of hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls. When she looked up again, she avoided his gaze, focusing instead on his shoulder.

“If you have your rum, you’ll probably want some right now. This is gonna sting.”

When Emma began dabbing at the wound to clean it, Hook yelped. “Bloody hell!”

Emma chuckled. “Payback!” She then couldn’t believe her own audacity and winked at him. The grin he repaid her with was so wide and genuine, she ducked her head and blushed.

“I thought we needed water.”

Emma finally looked him straight in the eyes and was startled at how close she was to his face. She swallowed hard and refocused on cleaning his wound. “I just needed to get away from everybody, that’s all.”

“Everyone seemed to get a joke that I was not privy to. Is that why you felt so uncomfortable?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” As she worked on his wound, Emma explained. “Those R.O.U.S’s? There’s a story – and a movie – with them in it, too.”

“But not my story?”

“Umm . . no, but there’s a pirate in it.”

“And Buttercup?” Hook asked.

Emma cleared her throat. She was blushing again! Why was she blushing? “She’s a character in the story, too. She’s got long, blonde hair and, well, the pirate, he . . .”

“Loves her,” Hook finished for her. Emma said nothing. “So the beautiful blonde lass falls in love with a pirate.” He sounds so satisfied with himself, it prompts her to speak.

“He isn’t a pirate at first. Just a boy named Westley. She thinks he was killed by the Dread Pirate Roberts, but he comes back, and it turns out he _is_ the Dread Pirate Roberts.”

Hook is silent for a long time. Emma pulls out gauze and bandages and dresses his wound. He finally says softly, “So to Buttercup, he isn’t a pirate, just Westley. The man she loves.”

Emma turns her face towards him expecting to see a flirtatious grin or a cocked eyebrow. Instead, Hook’s blue eyes hypnotize her with their depth and sincerity. His face is the most vulnerable she’s seen. There is so little space between them, she can feel his breath on her cheek. She wants to look away, but she can’t. Her hand hovers between them. She has the urge to place her hand on his chest, but she doesn’t.

“Say my name, Emma.”

He’s so close now, her nose brushes against his. She lowers her gaze. “Hook, I –“

“Please, Emma, say my name.”

It’s the please that does it. She looks back into his eyes, and she can see so clearly what this is about. She is so many things to so many people. Savior. Sheriff. Daughter. Sometimes she wants to be just Emma. She thinks of how many times people – herself included – have called him “just a pirate.” But she is beginning to see that he is so much more than that. Hook is the thing attached to the end of his arm, but it isn’t who he is. Yet it’s what everyone calls him. How often does he even hear his own name? And suddenly, she has to give him that. It’s not that big of a deal, after all. It’s just a name.

“Killian,” she breathes. And she was wrong. So very, very wrong.

Emma isn’t sure who closes the distance between them, but before she even realizes what is happening his lips are on hers, and she’s sighing into the kiss. This kiss should be more passionate than their first, considering he’s sitting here with his shirt off, but it isn’t. It’s slow – even sweet. As a matter of fact, it’s so achingly beautiful, that fear suddenly balloons in Emma’s chest. She puts her hand to his chest, but instead of lingering there like she longs to, she pushes him away.

“I – I can’t do this, Hook. I can’t.” She sees him visibly deflate when she calls him “Hook” again, and she hates the pain she sees in his eyes, but she can’t be this for him. He takes her hand as she stands up, tugging slightly.

“What are you afraid of, Emma?” he asks her.

She looks down at him and thinks of Westley and Buttercup. She smiled sadly. “ _Princess Bride_ was my favorite movie when I was a little girl. I think I loved it so much because Westley always came for her.” She lifts her arm, showing Hook her wrist. “I got this tattoo to remind me that I’m not Buttercup. No one comes back for me. Everyone leaves.”

“But Emma, I – “

Emma shakes her head and cuts him off. “You think you love me, Hook, you think you won’t leave me or hurt me. But you don’t really know me. I’m no princess. I’m just Emma. And trust me, just Emma is never enough for anyone.”

When she finishes her little speech, she refuses to meet his gaze, not wanting to see pity there. She turns as quickly as she can and practically runs away from him, back to camp.

Killian sits on the log, utterly wrecked for the second time. He can’t believe she still smells of cinnamon, even after battling those giant rats. He touches his lips briefly and can’t believe the feel of her lips on his is so familiar after only kissing her twice. He smiles at the thought that she lied – it wasn’t a one-time thing; it never could have been. But most of all, he can’t believe that Emma Swan doesn’t know how bloody amazing she is. Just Emma is all he wants or needs. Now all he has to do is prove it to her.

_I don’t mind the sun sometimes, the images it shows_

_I can taste you on my lips and smell you in my clothes_

_Cinnamon and sugary and softly spoken lies_

_You never know just how you look through other people’s eyes._


End file.
